Apologies May be Necessary
by StellaGale
Summary: What if Lisbon were the only one to notice Jane isn't quite Jane post amnesia. Has he taken things too far? And is he prepared to deal with the reprocussions? Bad with summaries. Multi-chap, First fic. Rated T for language.
1. An attempt

***Author's note- this is the first fan-fiction piece I have ever written, and it was inteded as a time killer post twisted ankle. I wrote this for a friend who believes it is fantastic, and I have decided to post it here for other's enjoyment. Reviews help the injured author write more! Which means faster healing! (What with the sitting and all)***

Lisbon was not amused, not in the least. She had silently been observing in the mirrored room as Jane "interrogated" their latest witness in the case, this time with a classic game of "where did the ball go?" with his delicate, robin's egg blue, teacups from the CBI lounge. He wasn't Jane-or rather he was, just not HER Jane. No, he was an unpasturized, whipped up, concoction of pre, and post amnesia Jane, not all bad but also not all good, and she was the only one noticing the salmonella in the jug of metaphorical milk.

Last week it was forging evidence, this week, returning to his old carnie schemes both with witness and family, rending hearts and minds equally without a twitch of one of his aquamarine blue eyes. She honestly didn't know how much more she could endure, and thus concluded the only thing she could do was concoct a plan to corner him and confront the bastard for all it was worth.

It wouldn't be until the following evening however, after the emotional onslaught of the search for Grace had been concluded, and the pot had yet again returned to a low boil at the CBI.

The day had been record breaking stressful in Lisbon's book, despite the fact that there was still a heaping pile of paperwork strewn in various piles across her desk, each one glaring menacingly at her, daring her to call it an early evening.

She cast her eyes to the clock, briefly noting it was 20 after 8 already, then to the largest of her drawers. Hidden within its confines was the sweet relief of a bottle of scotch, and an old shotglass. She cast a brief glance at the largest of windows within her office, while her hand delicately brushed the aluminum handle of the drawer. A soft "click" echoed in the void of silence as the handle retracted and the drawer effortlessly rolled out on its ball bearing guided hinges.

It was dark, save her office, and the small desk lamp cast a low dim light as she extracted the glass, then the bottle, giving way to the thought that she was alone tonight with only paperwork for companionship. She was regretably wrong however, and as she topped off the shotglass and wrapped her delicate fingers round it, prepared to throw it back, a voice-his voice reverberated through the silence.

"Hair of the dog?" He uttered in a silky tone, full of accusation mingled with curiousity.

Her head whipped sideways, fast enough to give anyone whiplash, to meet eye to eye with none other than Jane. Her brilliant green eyes, nearly cat like in appearance, narrowed to glare at the man casually leaning in her doorframe, one knee cocked and crossed over the other. She took in his pose in a brief sweep of her eyes, noting his folded arms and downcast chin, a slight cock to one of his eyebrows.

"How long have you- and excuse me if I-!" She stammered, her hand unconciously lowering the glass to the surface of the desk, her fingertips clenching round its girth.

"Long enough" was the reply, delivered in that same low silky tone.

"Just what are you doing here Jane? What do you want?" She snarked back at him, fingers tensing and un-tensing subconciously. Poor glass, Jane thought absentmindedly, observing the play of her fingertips as if the pressure might shatter the delicate glass any second.

"Oh, you know, saw the light, bored, figured I would walk toward it." He said, his tone grossly lathered in snark. He stared at her a moment, shifting only slightly before uttering a small sigh. "Going to drink that? Or watch it evaporate?"

"What buisness is it of yours anyway Jane?" She snarked back before throwing back the shot and her head, letting the alcohol burn away the distractions.

"I've been meaning to talk to you anyway-" she started before he could manage a reply. Her eyes cast to the bottle, she might finish that last third this evening alone she thought.

"Oh really!" Came his reply. " Here I was getting the impression I was intruding on your efforts to tackle those piles of paperwork there." He cast his glance and a gesturing arm to take in the scope of her desk. "Guess not. Well-"

"Well what Jane? Yes, I have a crap ton of paperwork, no thanks to you mind you, and a headache of equal proportion to go with it. But go ahead-" she gestured to her overstuffed couch tucked in the corner." I'll try my best to entertain you, though it seems you've been doing that quite well by yourself of late."

"What are you implying Lisbon? That I haven't been behaving?" He even air quoted "behaving" as he strode to the couch in the corner like a punished child. "Seems you're doing a poor job of it as well" He gestured to the bottle and glass before impolitely flopping down on the couch in a very unflatering manner. "Jane, don't you dare. Not after last week, not after this week. Seems as though you really haven't changed all that much from your glory days as a con artist." She smirked and grabbed the bottle forcibly, dumping its contents violently into yet another glass. She wanted a clear head, the scotch always helped to "burn the edge off a bit".

Jane starred back at her speachless, his eyes straining to fully see her in the dim lighting of the room, his expression was incredulous, and it sent Lisbon recoiling back into her chair as if distance would help her now.

"I see now." He started, his body slackening to melt into the synthetic leather of the couch, getting smaller, that mischevious light in his eye flickered and dimmed.

"See what Jane? I can't trust you! Its like, like-" she scrambled for the right words before giving way to abandon "It's like after your amnesia YOU are not you! Like a part of you never remembered, the Jane I knew wouldn't have forged evidence, wouldn't have crossed that line! I trusted him! I can't trust you!" She blurted in rapid succession, firing off the handle like a twelve year old with a gun. She breathed a heavy sigh, looking at him fully for first time since he had crossed the floor of her office and impromptly thrown himself at the mercy of her wrath.

He too had recoiled into the recesses of the couch, like her the chair, his expression that of a wounded animal awaiting the final blow, he had withdrawn into himself and all but curled up like an infant.

He blinked once, twice, then uttered "I'm sorry Lisbon. And you never asked..." He began to extricate himself from the couch almost immediatly, as if realizing he only intended to apologize, not go any further, his shoulders rolled inward and he appeared as though he might be preparing to bolt. Vulnerable indeed.

"Asked what?" She promptly threw at him, her voice softening as if to soothe him, her body lifted slightly from the office chair, angling towards the wide open door between them, their eyes both glancing towards it in unison.

"Nothing" he rushed, his voice breaking slightly, betraying his facade. He rose from his seat and made three quick, long strides toward the freedom of the door, its wide open-ness, the escape it was whispering to him, just as Lisbon swung her chair and simultaneously dove to block his escape in one graceful movement. She thrust her arms out as if to stablize the frame, her body becoming rigid as he stopped inches from her. She felt her breath hitch in her throat, and her heart palpatate in odd rythms beneath her ribs before a small whisper escaped her lips.

"Asked, what? Jane?"

Their eyes locked, each flicking back and forth within their respective sockets, looking for some betrayel of emotion or capitulation from the other.

"About after you," he sighed heavily and cast aside his glance, to study the wood grain to the immediate right of her end table.

"After you took me "home", to the house in Malibu." He briefly eye.

"Never bothered to ask, just assumed that was adequate, that it did the job." He swallowed heavily.

"What you didn't consider is that you couldn't erase the "con man" despite throwing him back into the figurative hell you made him remember."

He shifted his gaze back to meet hers, though it was brief, her eyes met his then almost immediatly fell to the floor. "I'm sorry." Was all she managed to utter before her arm was gently lifted from the door jam and he proceeded to duck under.

She watched as yet again, a now thrice broken man, walked away to the confines of his upper level room, dank and dark like the confines of his soul.

There would be another night for reconciliation, she knew there had to be.

"I'm sorry," she uttered unto the darkness, a single tear descending down her cheek.


	2. Mess with the Tyger, get the claws

***Author's note: I try to write each day, I don't know how that will go from here on out, but I've stockpiled a few chapters. Will post as often as possible. (Note: most of this was written on an android smart phone, so...spelling and gramatical errors may happen. I have looked it over and edited where I can, apologies otherwise.***

The next two days passed at the speed of a sleep deprived snail, the evenings consumed with mounting stacks of paperwork to file and a vacancy on Jane's behalf. On more than one occasion Lisbon had made a march through the bull pen and up the stairs to Jane's decrepid excuse for a room, once too often trailed by the curious stares of the Team. Each time she found the ramshackle bed and desk devoid of the blonde man's presence. Noting that, if remotely possible, more dust and cobwebbing had intruded upon the space, the spiders were truly having a field day in his abscence. She would sigh, wipe away the uninvited tears and sniff to clear the run of her nose before closing the door and descending the stairs once more.

It wasn't until the afternoon of the third day, while deeply immersed in paperwork, her hands aching from the draw of her pen, that Rigsby popped his head into her office.

She gave a quick jolt, noting the abscence of a knock, so very Jane like, before collecting herself and carefully annunciating-

"Yes, Rigsby?"

He proceeded to press his palm to the hinged side of the door frame, leaning in to announce "We have a case".

"Alright, I'll be right out." She uttered tonelessly, glancing down as if to mentally bookmark her progress on the form, before easing her chair back and proceeding to leverage herself from it's confines.

"Um, Boss?" Rigsby managed to squeek out in a trepidous tone while Lisbon still had her head directed towards her toes.

"Yes?" She uttered exasperatedly.

"I think we need Jane on this one, but as you know he, well, hasn't been around. And it's just that, you know, it's Him." He managed with all the akwardness of a pre-pubescent teen trying to make a pass at some girl.

"Red John?" She managed, her heart accelerating violently beneath her ribs. Rigsby nodded solemnly in confirmation.

"Okay, ok... I'll fin- get him." She nodded firmly, casting a glance towards the bull pen and beyond, hoping, praying, that when she actually needed him she might find him with minimal effort.

Her feet dragged up the stairs once more to the attic of the CBI, her hand caressed the steel of the door, sliding to the handle only to pause briefly before shoving her shoulder at the barracade, turning the handle in unison.

She was greeted by the grind of the hinges and a near shocking squeek of rusted wheels that followed harmoniously. She swung the door open to fully to face the suit clad back of none other than Patrick Jane. He was in grey, and it was almost as if he had looked out the window that morning and color matched his attire to the skies considering how well he blended with the landscape beyond the dingy windows he was seated in front of.

"Jane?" She hesitantly uttered, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

He craned his neck around to look over his shoulder, his once brilliant blue eyes were tinged with grey and dull, but they met hers levely before he spoke.

"Yes Lisbon, did you need something?"

His voice was flat, emotionless, just an employee responding respectfully to their boss.

"Um," she managed "Yeah, we have a case." She affirmed, lifting her chin as she forced herself to maintain eye contact.

"Alright then, I'll be right down then." He nodded, recklessly throwing out one of those well practiced charasmatic smiles as if to suggest nothing was askew. She paused, blinking in rapid sucession before casting her gaze about the room rather briefly, finally meeting his once more before she whipped around on her heel, folding into herself as she did so. She left the door slightly ajar as she left, her fingers lingering a moment too long on it's surface, hesitant, before she threw her chin up and resolutely descended the stairs two at a time.

She arrived back in the bull pen and managed to drop into a seat just as Jane whipped past the Team, raising his index finger and with a raise of his brows he uttered "tea" gesturing with his thumb and forefinger as if stirring a cup. He whipped around the corner bee lining for the breakroom as the team began to review the case.

It was a detective, Darcy to be specific, the FBI detective who only weeks earlier had been questioning Jane about the death of Panzer and Red John's involvement. To say that Jane's lies had come back to bite him in the ass was too much like stating the obvious. Lisbon was visibly uncomfortable as Jane re-entered the bull pen, delicate blue cup and saucer poised in his hands, his lips pursed to cool its contents. Lisbon met his eye, remorse, shame and fear evident in her expression. He calmly cast aside his own eyes to peer at the case file spread across the table. His facade broke momentarily before he slammed his mask firmly back into place and uttered "Red John, hmm." As casual as if he were deciding upon the cheesecake or the creme brule for dessert.

"Yeah" managed Rigsby, with a nod from the rest of the team. Admittedly all eyes were focused on him, fear and curiousity clearly readable in all of them.

"Is it him Jane?" Cho said, briefly looking at Lisbon before speaking, as if asking permission to do so.

"Dunno," Jane answered, shrugging off handedly with an air of casualness. "Need to see the crime scene, this could be a copy cat still." He suggested, taking a sip of his tea absentmindedly.

"Alright," interjected Lisbon, firmly back in command "Cho, you're with me, Rigsby, Jane," she looked at each in turn before turning to Van Pelt "Van Pelt? you in?" Her voice softened as she shifted her gaze to the younger agent.

"Yeah" Van Pelt replied with a hesitant tone before Lisbon repeated "Alright then, you're with Rigsby and Jane." She nodded to them all and shoved back her chair, gathering up the case files as she did so. She promptly walked to her office to gather her belongings, failing to notice that Jane had tailed her and was standing in her doorway, eliciting a small gasp and clutch of her chest as she whipped around ready to go.

"What?" She threw at him, her breath evading her as she yet again met his eye, this time noting the dark circles beneath them.

"You know what." He threw back casually, casting a glance over his shoulder before stepping forward, pulling the door closed behind him. He heaved a sigh.

"You screwed yourself Jane, I told you. Red John is not just going to stand idly by while you take away his credit for killing that man, you've gone too far, crossed some line you should never have and now, now I don't know. I don't know what you can do, you're screwed." She stepped back a few steps, planting her hip on the edge of her desk and rolling her shoulders in a gesture of hopelessness.

"You know what they say Lisbon, you play with the tiger don't whine when you get the claws. I'll take care of this. Somehow." He moved to leave but Lisbon interrupted him, her head hung low she spoke to the floor.

"You always say that Jane, but somehow I don't this time you can manage to stack the deck. You're playing into his hand and you just don't know it yet. What you did, you antagonized him, and this can't be resolved by a simple card trick. There is no con-ing that man and you know it. So what are you hoping for? To catch him off guard? We all know how that played out last time and I'm certain the jury isn't going to just overlook murder one again."

"Well then, lets not give them reason to have do so then shall we?" He turned, twisted the handle of the door and was out before she could compose another thought.

Lisbon bit her lip forcibly and smirked at his leaving back before snatching her keys off the desk and following after, all the while fuming.


	3. Downpour

***Author's note. I honestly didn't take the time to correct grammatical errors in this one (war with hubby over the computer...) Apologies where necessary. I also suppose I should put up a disclaimer. Check. Thank you to everyone who has R/R'ed and added the story/me to faves or alerts. No wonder people rant about these things! THANKS!***

Disclaimer: The Mentalist is the sole property of CBS and their affiliates. I do not claim any ownership of its material, cast, plot, etc. This is solely intended for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. Patrick is only mine in my dreams...till the alarm goes off.

It was 3:30 in the afternoon before they arrived at the crime scene. The sun had yet to make an appearance, and given the short winter daylight hours the sky had already begun to darken. The clouds were now amassed in angry looking bunches, threatening to break way with a downpour at any moment.

Lisbon parked, retrieved the keys from the ignition and briefly glanced at Cho, just at the right moment to notice Jane already longstriding past them, aimed for the front entrance of a upscale modern home in what was otherwise a relatively nice neighborhood, dotted by slightly less ostentacious houses. She huffed and scowled in his general direction before straightening her jacket and alarming the vehicle, her arms coming up to wrap around her ribs as the wind picked up, perchance to hold in a bit of warmth. She mentally chastised herself for not grabbing an actual coat before diverting the anger towards Jane, he had been the one to derail her leaving, amongst numerous other things. Ducking her chin to her chest against the wind she walked swiftly past FBI personnel and firemen, sirens long silent but the barrage of lights still persistent, yet another thing to add to the ever increasing throb of her brain. She looked up to see Jane impatiently rocking back and forth on his heel, reminiscent of a five year old, anxiously awaiting admittance. He had been stopped at the familiar yellow tape stretched across the front porch of the premises and no amount of whining or pursuasiveness was helping to gain him enterance. Lisbon smirked, taking the steps slowly intentionally before casting her eyes towards the agent on duty.

"Theresa Lisbon of the CBI, this is my team, and that is our consultant Patrick Jane." She uttered in monotone to the attending agent, flashing her badge in unison with Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt, her eyes only flicking to Jane in recognition of his status.

"Alright Ma'm" the agent uttered, stepping aside, and lifting the tape. Jane immediatly dove under and proceeded in as if he owned the place, without a moment's consideration to his fellow agents. Lisbon tailed him, nearly breaking into a jog to catch up, her eyes quickly scanning the confines of the house before noticing his trousers ascending the stairs two at a time. She raced after him in likeness, only slipping once as her foot failed to find purchase and she had to catch herself from falling back down the flight.

Jane didn't even look back, intent on getting to the room before the other agents mucking about managed to dishevel his crime scene. He wished far to often that they could just wait before going at it all on their own, perhaps this was why he was left with so very few clues each time. The rush was pointless however, she was dead, and as usual time and again, he found himself staring at the bedroom door, all courage draining out of him on the spot. He swallowed heavily before reaching out to seize the door knob. It was brushed alluminum, cold, and his fingers reflexibly coiled round its shape before giving it a reluctant turn and gentle push. Only then did the exhilation come, that breath that he failed to realize he was holding in. He inhaled sharply and stepped across the threshold.

Those precious moments that Jane stood rooted to the spot gave Lisbon the advantage and ability to catch up. She nearly layed into him on the spot for his lack of consideration, but thought otherwise as she took in his expression. His chest had paused in the regular rythm of inhalation and exhilation, his eyes, cold and icy blue like a glacier were fixated on the door knob. She waited a moment, then two more before reflexivly outstretching her hand in a gesture of comfort. Inches from touching his shoulder he ducked inside and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone and shell shocked in the hallway. She stood with her mouth agape, eyes narrowed, hand still extended outward, clearly appalled, before seizing the handle herself and giving it a twist. It spun easily and she followed him inside, her eyes quickly scanning the room to locate him, he was beside the bed, peering beneath the sheet at the dead agent and whispering softly, too softly for her to hear.

She considered briefly antagonozing him with some joke like "Save your words they're only falling on deaf ears. " or even worse "Still claiming you can talk to the dead, eh?" But his mask had yet again fallen away and there was no hiding the hopelessness that was evident upon his face. Tears had begun cascading over long tired lines carved deep in his skin, his age and exaustion for once bleeding through the facade he held so firmly in place at any other time. Lisbon hugged herself tighter, falling back into the shadows to lean against the wall, silently observing. He mechanically moved about the room, examining in his usual manner, touching, smelling, using what tools he could trust to be completely honest to him. She used a burreau to lean her hip against, briefly casting a glance at its surface before doing a double take.

"Jane." She uttered in the most fragile of voices.

He whipped round to level his gaze with his intruder, before striding towards her, his eyes tracing hers downward towards the surface of the burreau. She looked up at him briefly, catching his eye once more, fear and hesitation written plainly across her face. He leaned forward to eye the edge of a letter protruding from the corner or the table, only the "i-c-k" legible from his angle, though there was no question whom the intended recipient was. He then crouched down, balancing on his toes and bending at the knee to seize the letter, pulling it from beneath the furniture with a sharp snap as the scotch tape broke free. His name was written plainly across its front in typewrite, and it was carefully thrice folded with no envelope.

He flipped it back and forth a moment before pulling aside his lapel and safetly tucking it into the interior pocket of his suit, then walking away again to resume his investigation. Leaving Lisbon yet again staring at him with all intensity of a lioness stalking her prey.

"You know its him Jane. Get on with it already, you can't dig yourself out of this one, just admit it." She uttered, as he came full circle and had stopped, staring up at the bloody smilie painted above the headboard. Her tone was soft however, not accusational and bitter like before, it held a pleading note at the end that almost shocked him, enciting him to respond in turn.

"Damnit Lisbon, damnit all! What do you expect me to do? I can't just walk into the FBI and tell them that I forged evidence, or to the judge and admit I killed an innocent man," he blinked, whipping around on his heel to face her, his mouth parted slightly, he cast his eyes to the carpet at his feet, a single tear escaping his eye neareat her line of vision.

"I shot and killed a man." He spoke, his tone soft and full of realization. heavily before picking himself up and moving to leave, suddenly unable to breathe, he needed to be outside before he wretched. But Lisbon had moved to stand in front door, preventing his escape. The smell of copper was thick in the air and his eyes kept moving to look at either Red John's calling card or Darcy's corpse, neither of which he wanted to focus on at the moment. He felt trapped, unable to come to terms with the reality of the situation nor the consequences of his actions. Finally he sought out Lisbon's eyes, meeting them with desperation. He swiped angrily at the tears that had bled down his cheeks, trying to compose himself against all odds. Finally he capitulated and asked.

"What do I do?" His tone fragile, hesitant.

Lisbon sighed heavily before stepping forward and embracing him, his head immediatly falling into her shoulder in defeat.

"We'll get through this, like we always do." She tried to assure, lying as much to him as she was to herself. She carefully extracted herself from his embrace before taking his elbow and guiding him towards the door.

They both exited the premises, Lisbon leading the clearly defeated Jane past personnel to the security of the SUV in the shadow of the setting sun.

She left him to compose himself there, returning to inform the rest of her team that she would be securing a hotel for the night and would let them know its location as soon as possible. She instructed them to wrap things up with the FBI and other personnel on scene and meet Jane and herself there as soon as possible.

With that she proceeded back outside into a downpour that had just begun, the skies vengefully breaking open to drench the parched earth. She ran for the SUV, unlocking it with the clicker as she bolted, getting soaked in the process. She hopped inside it's confines to find Jane staring blankly at the letter between his hands, his knuckles white from the grip he held on the single sheet of paper. She leaned over the console to read two type written letters centered on the paper.

"Your move."


	4. The Calm Before the Storm

***Author's note.. I also suppose I should put up a disclaimer. Check. Thank you to everyone who has R/R'ed and added the story/me to faves or alerts. No wonder people rant about these things! THANKS!***

Disclaimer: The Mentalist is the sole property of CBS and their affiliates. I do not claim any ownership of its material, cast, plot, etc. This is solely intended for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. Patrick is only mine in my dreams...till the alarm goes off. Also, all lyrics, songs, etc. utilized in this chapter are the sole property of their artists and affiliates. No copyright infringement intended!

Chapter 4: The Calm Before the Storm.

Lisbon drove to the lulling sound of the wiper blades batting rain back and forth from the windsheild, the heater was on full blast, gushing out streams of pure relief to her chilled torso and feet. Her jacket was flung over the back seat and she had stripped off her rain sodden flats to dry her socks. It was was otherwise quiet in the cabin of the SUV as they sped down the 80 in search of accomodations for the night. Jane kept his eyes trained on the window, seemingly entranced with the trails of water that streaked across its surface. Lisbon kept her eyes focused on the road, an overly precautious driver, only casting the occasional glance towards Jane when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. He would fidget with the hem of his jacket a moment, toying with the pocket for some reason before frowning then looking back out the window, as if the passing scenary could offer him an answer, at best she hoped, some consolation, peace even.

All at once he suddenly scretched across the console to fiddle with the dial of the radio, in any other circumstance she might have swatted his hand, objecting to the onslaught of noise in the peace of the established rythm of wipers and vents, but instead she only looked over unoffended, her eyes catching on the gold band of his ring finger. She turned her eyes back towards the road, shifting slightly into the leather of the seat before flexing her fingers round the steering wheel a few times, tensing and relaxing. After what seemed like minutes of him fiddling with the dial through static and alarming hispanic rythms he settled on a soft rock station, the voice of the announcer coy and charming confirmed the station setting and then the music pulsed through the speakers in soothing accoustic tones.

It seemed that Jane only needed to have the distraction of the radio to unhinge his jaw. Only moments after the voice of Chris Martin of Coldplay had begun drawling the second verse of "The Scientist" did he finally utter.

"I'm sorry to have drawn you into all this Lisbon. It was never my intention." his voice was soft, but honest, though he made no attempt to make eye contact, opting instead to keep his eyes fixated on the window.

Lisbon sighed heavily, pausing to consider her response, her lip pinched between her teeth, before carefully replying, "I know. I understand, but that doesn't do us much good. What's done is done, and its unfortunate, yes, but I accept the consequences. I just hope you do as well. It's not as if they can convict you of anything, thats double jeopardy. You've been acquited, now you only have to find a way to absolve those crimes within your self Jane. It's not as if the man was altogether innocent, if you can persuade yourself to believe that. " She snickered before continuing. "You could always ask forgiveness, you may not believe that there is a God, that doesn't mean he doesn't exist. It may help you to let it go." She chanced a glance in his direction, her hand subconciously coming up to toy with the gold cross round her neck.

"Not happening Lisbon." He uttered into the silence that had fallen between them. Lisbon sat back, opting to listen to the radio in the void of conversation. "Breathe" was at the bridge approaching the chorus and she caught herself singing along silently. Her fingers stretching to the dial to turn up the volume as she exited the freeway and began to coast towards the inviting neon sign of a Motel 8.

_Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_

_And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table._

_No one can find the rewind button, boys,_

_So cradle your head in your hands,_

_And breathe... just breathe,_

_Oh breathe, just breathe_

The song faded into the silence along with her voice as she pulled the key from the ignition. The dome light popped on as soon as the key withdrew with the sound of a click. Lisbon undid her seatbelt and was craining around the center console to retrieve her jacket when Jane spoke again.

"You know, you can't carry a tune in a bucket. God help us all if I can't find a jazz station, those ones don't usually have lyrics and even if they did you wouldn't know them." He provoked, unaware that she was swiftly easing herself back into the seat, and only when her hand connected with his cheek did he finally come alive. "Hey!Ow! What was that for?"

"You know what that was for, don't play stupid Jane," Her hand was still poised for a strike if he chanced broaching the subject of her "vocalizations" again. " I also think you needed that, brooding doesn't suit you well- you come off as bi-polar. One moment driving everyone crazy and instigating the apocalypse the next as broody as a highschool goth kid. Apologetic however would be a welcome change of venue."

Jane turned around and caught her eye, he cocked an eyebrow, and that mischevious light came blazing back into his eyes. Lisbon sighed, rolled her eyes, grabbed her cell and began texting the rest of the Team their location, intensly focused on her effort at punching the buttons for the correct letters. While she was oppurtunly distracted he screwed his face up, furrowing his brow, eyes cast slightly downward, his head bowing and as a final touch her licked his lips and pushed his bottom one out just enough to give him the appearance of a woeful puppy.

"I'm sorry Lisbon." He said, his voice dripping with satire.

Lisbon had just sent the text when she popped her head back up, just in time to watch Jane's tongue moisten the surface of his lips, the tip delicately tracing their edge. She stared blankly without blinking before mentally shaking herself. "Hah, hah Jane. Not what I meant." She swallowed thickly, noting only then that she was leaning heavily on the console between them, her body angled nearer his side than her own. She jumped back and bailed from the car, leaving him staring confusedly before he too exited the vehicle with all the grace he possesed. She hustled under the safety of the eves, clicking the alarm button as she walk-jogged, leaving Jane to follow. Once sheltered she turned round to watch him walk slowly toward her, eyes turned skyward to the rain.


	5. Reality check

***A/N.. Suppose I should put up a disclaimer. Check. Thank you to everyone who has R/R'ed and added the story/me to faves or alerts. No wonder people rant about these things! THANKS! I really appreciate it! Especially the comments! ***

Disclaimer: The Mentalist is the sole property of CBS and their affiliates. I do not claim any ownership of its material, cast, plot, etc. This is solely intended for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. Patrick is only mine in my dreams...till the alarm goes off.

Part 5:

Lisbon stared blankly at the receptionist, deeply lost in contemplation over the quantity of rooms to book. She knew Jane wouldn't be sleeping so that eliminated the need for an extra bed. Five was such an akward number, inconvenient even, and in the end she booked just two rooms, one for the boys and another for the girls. The clerk had suggested a cot just in case but Jane had thrown one of his charasmatic smiles at her and she had even opted to "discount" them one occupant charge. Lisbon half-heartedly chuckled, accepted the room keys, and left the lobby, only briefly chancing a glance over her shoulder to look back towards the very obviously flustered girl. She shook her head in a hopeless gesture, yet another victim fallen prey to the charms of one Patrick Jane. He looked back moments later, tossing a wink of one of those alluring blue orbs in the girl's direction. Lisbon noticed from her peripheral and threw a smack at his shoulder. He mock cried out and clutched his arm as if she had wounded him.

He continued to rub at the sting of his flesh all the way to their respective rooms, growing more and more reserved with each passing hall and flight of stairs. When they reached the third floor Lisbon paused to check the rusted edged sign indicating the direction of each group of rooms, 217 and 233 were to the left the sign read. Jane however was staring intensly at his feet as he ascended the flight, failing to notice in his introspective study of leather that Lisbon had stopped at the top of the flight, so, unaware of the obstruction he proceeded to walk right into her, causing her to fall forward and not unlike a suspect, plant her hands straight out against the coarse spackling. Jane however, left with nothing to grab onto for balance, gripped Lisbon like static to a sock.

"Jane," Lisbon uttered tensilely, begining to feel the burn of her cheeks as a flush coursed down her neck, her respirations coming in a shorter, more rapid pace."

"Sorry Lisbon" Jane uttered a'bashedly, carefully extricating his hands from her torso with every ounce of his self-control. He let his finger tips delicately brush the edge of her fitted jacket to take in the texture and warmth emanating before jamming his hands deep into his own pockets, his fingers coiling into a fist a moment before relaxing. "Sorry" he whispered in the silence, letting her compose herself as she stepped forward towards the wall before jutting off to the left of the hallway in haste.

Jane tailed her casually, casting the occasional glance towards one the of the brick red, metal doors with brass numbers when a sound or vocalization would emanate from room beyond. A half a dozen exaggerated moans, and a couple of shushings of rambunctious children later and they were staring at their own respective accomodations. Lisbon ducked inside her room first with a quick swipe of the key card and flick of the handle, she threw her overnight bag vaguely in the direction of one of the beds, jumping slightly when it missed and clattered to the floor loudly. She leant back against the door frame a moment, letting go of a long held sigh before shoving off towards her belongings. She rifled through its contents swiftly, casting aside clothing and underthings in an effort to get to her toiletrys. Thankfully, after the thousandth time of tossing her bag neglectfully wherever, she had remembered to ziploc bag her travel size shampoo, conditioner and roll on perfume. She extracted the bag carefully, now an explosion of the three containers, a thick, white, oily mess, she walked it to the bathroom and tossed it into the sink, the smell already permeating the "girls room". She walked back into the main room to the sound of her "message ringtone" a little ping noise, soft yet alarming.

"_Here_." was the text followed by a little "_-G _" indicating it was Grace. It was swiftly followed by "_Meet you in the lobby_?" Lisbon pecked at the keys and messaged back "_Yeah, see you in 5._" She turned round, pocketing her phone and key card before stepping outside and proceeding down to the lobby. Minutes later she was meeting the rest of the Team and handing out key cards, Cho and Rigsby were already making there way up the flights of stairs, Lisbon and Van Pelt lagging behind. Not long after the "boys" had turned down the hall and headed for the next flight of stairs Grace broke the silence between them.

"Is it really him Lisbon?" She looked down towards her boss woefully, her voice thick and uncertain. She broke eye contact and choose instead to train her eyes on her footfall.

"I don't know Grace, but I'm not going to lie to you, I find it hard to believe any other human being could do that to someone." She turned left and sped up the pace to catch the boys.

"Rigs, Cho, tell Jane we'll meet in half an hour in our room, then make plans to find a place to eat and discuss the case." She said.

"Alright Boss." They replied in near unison before ducking into their room.

Grace followed Lisbon into their room, only pausing briefly to cast a glance over her shoulder to catch Rigsby's eye before relinquishing her hold on the cold steel door and letting it fall shut behind her with a heavy thud. She walked in, setting down her bags daintly on the queen sized bed furthest from the door, her eyes roaming the room, taking in the exits, the decor and finally Lisbon.

"You alright Grace?" Lisbon uttered softly in a cautious tone.

"Yeah. Fine. You?" She inquired in response.

"Yeah, or at least I will be." Lisbon gestured with a sweep of her arm, striding towards the bed she had claimed. It was an atrocious floral pattern, a blend of olive and rose with a dingy beige undertone, but she proceeded to flop down upon it in surrender, lying spread eagle upon its surface a moment before rolling over to look at Van Pelt. The junior agent seemed distraught, though she was making an exceptional effort to conceal it. She sprawled out on her side, her feet dangling over the edge, her hand coming up to cup her head and fistfuls of rich brown curls, her hair, free of its confining band, sprawled out around her in waves, spilling over her fingetips. She patiently observed Van Pelt, a sigh escaping through her barely parted lips.

"It's just," Van Pelt began, her eyes trained on the berber carpet at her feet. "If this really is him, then Jane, and-" She swallowed a heavy lump building in her throat. "And Craig, this was all for nothing then. Lisbon? Please tell me the truth. That wasn't Red John Jane shot was it? That was an innocent man. He's still out there, he killed that guy Panzer didn't he?" Grace's eyes grew to the size of figurative golf balls as the reality of the situation struck her like a head on collison with a semi. Her voice, which began demure and soft, grew in intensity as she spoke.

Lisbon tucked her head into one of the pillows she had seized in an unconcious gesture of submissiveness, speaking into its polyester depths. "No. It wasn't." She sidestepped by intentionally being vague. "But lets save the revelations for when the whole Team is together. I have no doubt the guys are drawing the same conclusions as we speak, given the reactions of Jane in that house." She paused, " Give Jane a chance." She concluded, her inflection almost that of a person begging. With that she rolled over and tucked her legs towards her chest, opting to doze for a few minutes in the lapse of silence that had fallen between them, all the while thinking "_I hope you realize what you've done Jane, not just to yourself, but to the team. They're not idiots you know, well...maybe Rigsby is a little slow on the uptake, but you can't hide this from them forever. I can only hope you choose honesty over vanity this is Family Jane, and where I come from, there are no secrets between them..." _With that she snuggled in closer to the pillow she had wound herself around and drifted off soundlessly.


	6. Cinnamon and Sugar Cookies

A/N: Kind of a long, fluffy, filler chapter. Was just enjoying writing at the time. The next chapter is a plot advancing chapter, and is already written. In the mean time, enjoy.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Part 6:

Twenty minutes later and most of the team had assembled in the girls room. Van Pelt had courteously propped open the door so that Lisbon might go undisturbed, and, so that the smell of cinnamon and sugar cookies could dissipate from the otherwise permeated room. Jane finally arrived, a cardboard tote of to-go coffees in hand, and a single cup of tea perched in the other. He smiled coyly before passing them out to their respective person, his eyes flicking down to the cup, uttering their name as he selected their beverage, then up to meet the person's eyes, holding their gaze a moment before moving on to the next individual. He remained in the doorway whilst doing so, his foot discreetly cocked against the kick plate of the door to keep it ajar, up until he finally called Lisbon's name and noticed she had failed to make an appearance. He threw a glance at the bathroom door just as Van Pelt spoke,

"She's sleeping" She managed, her tone thick with repulsion and disdain for having to answer him. Jane eyed her confusedly, his blue orbs wide with shock, his brow cocked. He shook his head quickly before bursting out laughing with a sudden bark. At once the entire team whipped round and shushed him. Jane shut up almost instantly as a quick succession of violent gestures came flying at him . Jane shook them off casually, rolling his eyes before stepping into the room with the intention of waking Lisbon.

"Lis-biin" He crooned, his voice dripping with that seductive timbre. He rounded the corner of the closet only to be hit with a wave of cinnamon and sugar, baked sugar, waarrmm sugar, his eyes rolled back and the desire to stop and roll every inch of himself in that scent was like fire scorching his skin. He felt a chill begin it's trek from the delicate curls at the nape of his neck, down his back, and to his toes, his head lolling back a moment before he caught himself. He was standing there savoring eau de Lisbon while the team stared slack jawed at his primal behavior, Rigsby had even recoiled, backing Grace into the corner defensively behind him. He proceeded to the edge of the bed composing himself without a backwards glance, before crouching down to come eye to eye with Lisbon's sleeping form.

"Lisbon," He uttered, holding out the cup of coffee before him, just out of swatting range, occasionally striking inward so that the vapor would condense below her nose as she inhaled. The third time he swept the cup below her nose she shifted slightly, stretching out one of her legs and wriggling the toes of one foot. Nothing escaped Jane's perception and he made note of the gesture, smirking all along, his other glacier blue eye, bright with mischief, was trained on her mouth, which had turned distinctly downward in a frown as the coffee cup failed to makes it pass. He risked an attempt at touching her shoulder, but her left eye instantly popped open just as his palm neared it, narrowing to a cat like slit of brilliant emerald. She whipped up and snatched the cup of coffee from his hand without even a brush of her fingertips on his flesh. He smirked at his offended hand, shook it a moment, then shoved it into the depths of his pocket, his fingers quickly searching out the fray of fabric near the corner seam, twisting it and tugging soothingly.

Lisbon proceeded to glance around the room, coming eye to eye with each of her subordinates.

"Sorry guys, tired I guess, coffee will help with that. Thank you Jane." She smiled half-heartedly up at him before taking a deep draw from the plastic lip of the cup, her fingers joining to coil round the warmth of the Styrofoam as she lowered it. The rest of the team joined in chorus of thank yous, some genuine others doleful in tone. Jane smiled one of his charismatic smiles before nodding in acceptance, his hand simultaneously darting out in an offer to Lisbon for support to stand. His other hand had seized his cup of tea and he was holding it aloft as if accepting an award of some sort. Lisbon had dejected his hand and rolled off the other side of the bed, bending over to nab her flats as she came to an standing position.

"So, who's hungry and are there any suggestions on where to go?" Lisbon asked in a commanding tone.

"There's a diner just down the road I saw when we were pulling off the 80." Rigsby quickly said, sounding elated at the prospect of food.

"Ok. Everyone good with that?" Lisbon asked, cautiously eyeing Jane. Jane shrugged, and looked around the room at everyone else a moment to read acceptance on everyone's faces.

"Why are you looking at me?" He spouted, aghast that she suspected an argument on his behalf.

"Fine. Lets go then, we can discuss things further there." She swept up her jacket, previously a blanket, and stepped towards the door to catch the frame and hold it wide while everyone clambered outside. Jane paused a second at the door, staring at Lisbon's collar bone, her cross was caught in the crook of her clavicle. He rocked back on his hind leg, darted out, and seized the chain and cross, twisting it right and centering the pendant before dashing over the threshold and diving past Cho for protection. He tucked his hands into his pockets non-chalantly as Lisbon exited, pulling the door shut loudly behind her. He avoided her eye and stepped out into the lead, head held high, jingling the keys of the SUV up above his shoulder tauntingly.

Lisbon stood speechless for a moment, her hand tracing the long gone trail of Jane's fingertips, white hot paths left burning across her collar bone and sternum, before stepping out assertively and slamming the door behind her. Her eyes turned downcast as she walked in silence for a few moments, bringing up the rear of the team, till the jingling of keys caught her attention that was. She reactively thrust her hand into the depths of her right pocket, finding it devoid of its early contents she uttered, "Rigsby?" In a prudent tone so as not to alert Jane.  
>Rigsby whipped his head round and instantly replied with "Yes Boss?" In a dutiful tone. Lisbon held his eye for a moment before tossing her head in Jane's general direction, glancing up at the keys he proudly held aloft, then dropping her gaze to meet Rigsby's once more, she quirked an eyebrow and nodded, to which Rigsby returned affirmatively.<br>With that Rigsby took one massive stride forward and plucked the keys from Jane's fingertips before sliding his hand back and passing them off to Lisbon. She mouthed a thank you and offered a wink of one of her now brilliant emerald green eyes, full of satisfaction. She smiled a genuine smile as Jane uttered a "Hey! ow!" Whipping around to glare at Rigsby and then Lisbon.  
>"That's what you get for gloating. You would think you'd have learned by now, oh! Wait...it's you." She teased, rolling her lip between her teeth. Jane rubbed at his fingertip<br>that had been crooked to cradle the key ring, mock scowling and then pursing his lip in a gesture of hurt. Lisbon frowned and narrowed her eyes, conveying to her sulking consultant to suck it up and behave himself. Jane threw his head up proudly and with an air of arrogance rolled his shoulders back, elevated his spine and proceeded down the last flight of stairs and into the steady drizzle of rain resolutely. Jane of course headed straight for the passenger side door, his hand poised on the handle possessively as the rest of the team approached the SUV. Lisbon hit the button and the locks retracted with a click, permitting their entrance to the shelter of the vehicle. Everyone clambered inside, settling with a low hum of conversation and clicks of seatbelts. Jane was already staring determinately out the window, opting to tune out the Team and direct his attention towards the steady chorus of rain beating time against the glass. It wasn't until he noticed Lisbon clambering into the driver's seat that he shifted his focus, proffering his arm for support. Without looking he felt ice cold fingers entwine with his own, her other hand seizing his wrist to pull herself up. He jerked his head in her direction, his face drawn back in an expression of shock before softening to an almost thankful look. Her hand held tight to his fingertips a moment before she retracted them to shove the key into the ignition and turn the engine over in one shift motion. Jane continued to stare at her, his mask stripped away to reveal the fear just beneath the surface, fear and regret. Lisbon ignored him a moment while Rigsby rattled off directions like cannon fire. When everyone had shifted their attention away from them she softly uttered, "It will be okay Jane. Just tell them the truth and things will mend in time." She assured him.  
>Jane had directed his attention bitterly at the window again. He was scowling and Lisbon could see it in the reflection cast off the glass. It was like watching him furl in upon himself, like a dying leaf, one moment elated and mischievous, the next like reality had come crashing down without preamble. She swallowed heavily and then aimed the vehicle at the driveway of "Regina's Diner", a big, blue and magenta vintage sign proclaiming the establishment's name. Jane sighed heavily, the reality of what was to come lying heavily upon his brain.<p> 


	7. The Truth Will Set You Free

Part 7:

They had all promptly evacuated the SUV, a chorus of belly rumbles audible in the silence that had fallen amongst them. The establishment had character and service was swift. Obnoxious Valentines day decor had been strung up along the walls and the tables were complemented with tiny floating candles in half full vases, little flames dancing about in the dimly lit confines of the diner. Various elderly couples and families were packed into bright aqua booths, retro in style, even the tables were complete with silver ribbed trim, vintage 50's style.  
>The team was quickly ushered to a large table near the back, seated, and given menus to peruse. Rigsby was already eyeball deep in the menu when Lisbon chanced a glance at the team over the top of the menu, her eyes flicking to Jane lastly. He was sitting solemnly, his menu flat on the table landscape oriented, his arms folded neatly over the top of the laminated surface. He instantaneously caught her eye and quirked a brow curiously.<br>"Aren't you ordering something Jane?"  
>She said in a authoritative, yet suggestive tone, much like she was speaking to a ill mannered child, she even held her breath for the rebuttal.<br>He opted instead to purse his lip out, then curl it inward while shaking his head "no". He quickly shifted his gaze, opting to glance over at Cho's menu as if giving it a chance.  
>Cho shifted suggestively before slowly turning his head to look at Jane. He blinked once, twice, then finally uttered "You mind? You know I hate that." He reached over, snagged Jane's menu from beneath his arms, and threw it up and open in Jane's face irritatedly.<br>"There you go." He said.  
>"Ah! Yeah, ... No, not hungry." With that he put down the menu and positioned it landscape once more, folding his arms atop it just as the waitress came over.<br>"Everyone ready?" She asked, looking down at her pad and poising her pen before beginning with Lisbon and moving round counterclockwise after Jane threw his hand up to pass.  
>After everyone ordered and drinks had been delivered it became clear that the moment everyone was tentatively awaiting had come. The tension was almost palpable. Jane had just finished the eigth counterclockwise turn of the spoon and was extracting it from his sable tea cup when he looked up, finding four pairs of eyes trained on him. He diverted his eyes while simultaneously picking up the tea cup and gently blowing at its surface, acting non-chalant, while in reality he was using the moment to compose himself, firmly slamming his mask into place. Cho opted to speak first after a glance at Lisbon.<br>"It's Red John, isn't it Jane? Red John killed Darcy." He stared intently at Jane, his face remaining neutral otherwise.  
>Lisbon looked like she was about to assume the fetal position, somehow reflecting the guilt that Jane manage to keep buried. Rigsby was slurping on his coke, but had paused lest he miss the reply. Grace look disgusted, her eyes narrowed intently on Jane, her fist clenched on the napkin the had unconsciously grabbed, her arm twitched as her muscles fought not to seize with the tension. Rigsby's hand came to rest atop it moments later, after a brief glance at her, his massive hand trapping her delicate one beneath it.<br>"Yes." Jane finally uttered hesitantly, his voice betraying him. "He's alive." He swallowed heavily at the admission. The same words he had spoken to Lisbon, only Lisbon, never anyone else, guilt hit him at the realization of what he consistently did to her. He looked across at her a moment, apologetic and regretful, her green eyes held a sheen of un-cried tears, brightening the green to a brilliant jade.  
>With that Van Pelt vaulted from her seat, wrenching her grasp away from Rigsby violently.<br>"You bastard." She blurted venomously. "You lying, manipulative, Son of a-" Rigsby grabbed her as she moved towards Jane, spinning her round and seizing her arm. He strode towards the door, clutching her forearm, bowing his head as a dozen pairs of eyes rose to follow him and Grace curiously. He blocked out the whispers that tailed him as he pushed her through the door, catching only the phrase "Deniability!" Uttered loudly from their consultant.  
>Jane had pulled his seat back and looked prepared to go after her when Cho spoke again.<br>"If this is him then Timothy Carter was just an innocent man you murdered. I don't want any further part in this." With that Cho shoved back his chair and walked out of the restaurant, leaving Jane and Lisbon starring after the man aghast. Jane sighed defeatedly, hanging his head, his unruly golden curls tumbling forth tumultuously.

Lisbon turned her head slightly, angling it to chance a view at Jane. She watched silently as a tear dripped from his downcast eyes, the droplet collided with the surface of his tea, breaking the surface tension and radiating out in delicate concentric circles. She turned her head away to look over her shoulder just as the waitress came to deliver their meals. Jane popped his head up, miraculously composing himself in seconds, before looking at the waitress and recklessly tossing out a lie to explain the absence of the other guests, she looked worried he would later explain, and he felt the need to assure her.

When the individual plates had been laid in their respective locations Jane looked towards Lisbon and said,

"I'll go to the restroom, you bring the others back in and tell them I've left, they can come eat. I will sneak out and everyone can enjoy their meal. I didn't order anything, and I'm _Not _ hungry, so I can wait in the Van." He spoke in an even tone, lacking in much inflection other than to reiterate he was not interested in eating. Lisbon responded with a half-hearted nod, never once making eye contact with him, she extricated herself from the wooden seat and strode to the front door of the establishment to retrieve her team.

Jane stared intently at the crisp, white, linen surface of the table before seizing his little tan mug and throwing back the remainder of its contents, shuddering, as the now cold liquid passed down his throat. He set the glass down with a 'clink' on the saucer before turning and heading towards the men's room, his mind surprisingly devoid of thought. He had no intention of waiting in the SUV, despite his previous statement to Lisbon. So when he walked out the front doors and stepped into the steady rain, his feet carrying him forth in the direction of the hotel, he didn't expect to find Lisbon waiting for him.

"Going somewhere Jane?" she asked with a slight tone of accusation.

Jane swallowed heavily, obviously caught, he turned round on his heal and submissively walked back to the SUV, waiting on her to unlock the doors. Lisbon did so, watching him intently as he loaded up into the passenger seat.

"I'm going to lock the doors, and alarm the vehicle. So don't even think about it." She snarled her lip and pointed militant-like. With that she turned on her heel and walked back into the restaurant, leaving him to stare out the window after her hopelessly.


	8. Pawns, Queen, The Bishop & His Castle

A/N: I suppose apologies are necessary! Apologies for the hiatus, I intend to continue writing this fic, but have been incredibly busy. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me, I have another chapter written already and will post it within the next few days after I write #10.

Disclaimer: The Mentalist is the sole property of CBS and their affiliates. I do not claim any ownership of its material, cast, plot, etc. This is solely intended for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. Patrick is only mine in my dreams...till the alarm goes off.

Part 8

The Team had begrudgingly re-assembled in their respective seats at their table and had commenced eating while Lisbon had secured Jane in the SUV. She walked in without a backwards glance, drawing near to the table she took a moment to scan each of her colleague's faces. First was Rigsby, who had assumed a possessive sort of pose over his steak, his elbows were on the table and he was hunkered down over the plain, white porcelain plate, his knife violently gesturing in the air as he spoke. His fork had pinned down a hunk of flesh, spearing it straight through before he spun it round and popped it in his mouth simultaneously turning to look at Cho who was replying. Cho was staring at his plate with an expression of disgust. Lisbon cast her eyes towards the burger arranged amongst the fries, it seemed well assembled, its juices dripping over the lettuce and tomato protruding from the confines of the bun, she couldn't help but lick her upper lip and swallow heavily. Cho continued to stare vacantly and talk to the fries with little display of emotion. Lisbon finally chanced a glance at Van Pelt, her heart almost immediately sinking. Grace had pushed back her seat, folded her arms across her chest, and was staring disdainfully at each of the guys in turn as they spoke. Her nostrils were flaring with each intake of breath, and her eyes were narrowed threateningly on Cho. The remains of her cob salad were askew on the plate, obviously picked through. The little dressing cup had been drained of its contents and was cast aside, lying on its side in the middle of the table, Lisbon imagined the little circles it must have made as it rolled on its edge round and round before settling.

Before she knew it she was standing alongside her seat, staring down at the bowl of clam chowder and oyster crackers that the waitress had left. Little tendrils of steam curled upward, inviting her to sit, and so she did, cautiously eyeing the rest of the team as she did so, noting that their eyes were now trained on her. She sighed heavily and proceeded to pick up her spoon, delicately balancing it between thumb and forefinger, before dipping it into the contents of her bowl and weaving it back and forth, stirring its contents trans-fixedly. She finally lifted the spoon, poised to take a bite when her pocket suddenly vibrated. She extricated the small, silver device from her pocket and flipped it open to read a text that had come through. It was from Jane, "_I'll see you at the hotel, text you my new room number when I know it -Jane._" "Dammit." Lisbon uttered softly, pocketing her phone again before diving into her soup with a new found vengeance. She avoided the questioning stares of the rest of the team as she shoved down a few spoonfuls resentfully.

…...

Jane had managed to sit in the confines of the SUV for a grand eighteen minutes before growing restless, the sound of the rain driving on the windshield was agitating him in his otherwise silent prison. When tapping his index finger on the armrest of the door had failed to abate his thoughts he began glancing back towards the diner every three and a half minutes, give or take, his anxiety building with each passing minute. He finally decided his best option was to find a way to escape the SUV, preferably without alerting Lisbon, then message her so as to avoid her wrath. So he crawled across the center console, slid beneath the steering column and sought out the mechanism that would trigger the alarm. It was easy enough to recognize, and he carefully pulled the cable apart from its counterpart, noting that the little indicator light to the left of the dash had ceased its blink. With that he righted himself from his awkward position, now sitting in the driver's seat, he hit the unlock button on the door console and stepped out of the vehicle into the still driving rain. He locked the vehicle behind him once more before striding out towards the hotel. When he was three blocks away and safetly tucked under the eaves of a small bistro he withdrew his phone from his inner left pocket and sent a text to Lisbon. The little display confirmed that the message was sent, and with that he strode out back into the rain, his feet dutifully carrying him towards the hotel once more. He kept his head bent low, his eyes focused on the concrete before him, an air of non-chalance trailing him as he passed the occasional passerby, calling no attention unto himself as he walked solemnly along.

…...

When most everyone had finished their meal, or had it boxed by the waitress, Lisbon finally perked her head up, commanding the attention of her subordinates, she swallowed heavily, dipping her chin momentarily before finally speaking in an authoritative tone. "I just want you all the understand something, what Jane has done is done. There is no changing the past. Now, with that said you all can choose to forgive him or not, whichever you decide is your own business but I am going to say something that I hope you all consider before passing judgment on him, or I. Jane is a good man. He may have made mistakes in the past, but haven't we all? Timothy Carter was far from innocent, that poor girl was-" She looked over at Van Pelt who quickly dropped her gaze guiltily. "So to suggest that Jane murdered someone in cold blood wouldn't be entirely accurate. He didn't know it at the time but then again, he was also led to believe that that man had murdered his wife and child. And really, how would Timothy Carter have known to be at the mall if he didn't have some connection to Red John, how would he have known what to say to Jane?" She closed her eyes a moment, recalling those words that Jane had spoken to her alone, the way in which he said they smelled, the honesty in the man's voice, how could he have perceived him not to be Red John? She was smart to have spoken first, she knew it. The rest of the team seemed to have paused to think before any of them spoke, giving Lisbon the upper hand.

Rigsby glanced at Van Pelt, who inclined her head to look at Cho. "I don't know what to say... Sure, we've all made mistakes, but Jane just carries on like he's privileged or something. He doesn't bother to consider anyone else when he lies and manipulates people. He manipulated us, all of us, and now we get to suffer the consequences, not him. It doesn't matter that Timothy Carter was innocent or not, what matters is that he used us, all of us, to achieve his goals, and look what that got us. And on top of that, he offers no sort of apology. Now he expects us to just carry on with our lives and work and for things to just revert back to what they were, like nothing happened." She trailed off softly, her eyes softening as if recalling something. They glossed with a sheen of unshed tears a few moments later, and her body slackened as she heaved a heavy, defeated sigh.

Rigsby watched Van Pelt intently as she spoke, his hand lying atop her's reassuringly, rubbing small circles with thumb across the back of it. When she finished speaking he paused, hesitant to react any further to her distress, he withdrew his hand, settling it formally on his knee which had begun to bounce heedless of his attempts to still it. He withdrew his gaze from Van Pelt with an upright jerk, as if caught off guard, to look at Lisbon.

"I think that in the long run I can forgive Jane. But not if he continues to behave the way he has been. There is no excuse for what he has done to the Team, lying to us whenever it's more convenient for him to do so.. which in reality is more often than not," He looked down at his plate, staring vacantly at the oily trails of steak residue "That's not how a team works, we're honest for a reason. I can't forgive what he's done to Grace, or you Boss, and I'll leave it at that. If he's going to work with us from here on out he has to accept responsibility for what he's done, and make amends, in whatever way Jane knows how." The corner of his mouth twitched as he plucked his fork up from the table, drawing little zig zags in the bloodied juices and seasonings, all the while staring at his motions. He dropped the fork with a sense of finality, pinching his lips together in a half frown before leaning back in his seat folding his arms cross his chest.

Cho looked at Rigsby with his typical expressionless glance before shifting his stare to Lisbon. He met her eyes and held them before speaking in his typical indifferent tone.

"I don't care. Jane has made his decision, he's reiterated it time and time again. How can any of you expect anything different of him. I will not willingly allow myself to be manipulated into anything to do with that man from here on out, because I know the result. I'll have myself transferred to another department if that's what it takes."

Lisbon looked aghast at Cho. "You can't say that Cho. He's saved your ass before and you know it. He may not be a saint but he sure as hell isn't as bad as you're insinuating."

Cho smirked "Oh, for a minute there I thought you were going to say "_He closes cases."_ That seems to be your go to excuse when it comes to him. Easy, rehearsed, an easy justification for whatever the circumstance."

Lisbon swallowed heavily, her throat thick from emotion, before opening her mouth to counter, thankfully the waitress showed up to give her reprieve, lying down tickets before each of them.

"Give them here, its on work's tab." Lisbon uttered, making a couple "give me" type gestures with her hand, her eyes trained on her own ticket as she waited for them to hand over their receipts. When she had them all she handed them back to the waitress with a singular silver credit card. The moment she got to contemplate her next approach,whilst starring at her own receipt, prepared her for the verbal assault that followed the departure of the waitress, though she was surprised when it was Grace who spoke.

"I just don't understand Boss. One moment you're mad as hell at him, the next you're telling us to give him a chance, to forgive him. Have you even bothered to think of what he's done to you? Don't tell me you haven't, I know you have, and yet you insist that he's good man." She swallowed, concern bled through her austere expression, her eyes softening to look back at her friend, her boss, there was no hiding the poignancy within her eyes.

Lisbon turned her eyes down and to the side penitently, inclining her head as she did so. It was then that the waitress stepped up alongside her and set down the receipt, credit card, and a ball point pen. Lisbon mechanically filled out the little spaces on the receipt for tip and total, then signed it elegantly. She eased back her chair and was just rising from it when her phone began to ring. Flustered and struggling to retrieve the device from her pocket, it vibrated three times and emanated a rather irritating ring before she managed to extract it and flip it open.

"Lisbon," she uttered breathily.

"Lisbon it's Wayne Wright. How are doing this evening."

"Fine Sir, fine. What's up?" She uttered tentatively.

"Listen, I understand that you guys are working the Darcy case and I have some unfortunate information. You see, when Agent Darcy last visited the CBI she was less than convinced with Jane's story and requested the entire Red John case file." He paused as if to gauge Lisbon's reaction. "I signed those files over to her Agent Lisbon." He stated affirmatively with little intonation otherwise.

"Ok Sir, I understand. However there were no case files cataloged into evidence that I am aware of, I will double check that when we get back to the hotel." She struggled to maintain her composure, opting to tap the tip of the pen against the table, accelerating the rhythm in sync with her heart rate as she listened.

"Oh, I'm sorry to have interrupted your dinner Agent, I'll be expecting your phone call later this evening then. Enjoy your meal Agent Lisbon, talk to you later." A hint of a smile bled through with his inflection as he replied.

"Alright, thank you Sir." She reciprocated before hitting the little "end" button on her phone.

"Shit." She said, sighing heavily through clenched teeth. The Team was starring at her, awaiting answers.

"He has his entire case file. All of our notes. Everything. Darcy had it and now it's gone." She admitted, crumpling with defeat before them, it was as if all the fight drained out of her on the spot. She palmed her forehead a moment, withdrawing her hand with a swipe, she picked herself up and strode towards the door swiftly, pocketing the little peppermint confection the waitress had left and extracting the SUV's keys.


	9. Room Number 314

A/N: I suppose apologies are necessary! Apologies for the hiatus, I intend to continue writing this fic, but have been incredibly busy. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me, I have another chapter written already and will post it within the next few days after I write #11.

Disclaimer: The Mentalist is the sole property of CBS and their affiliates. I do not claim any ownership of its material, cast, plot, etc. This is solely intended for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. Patrick is only mine in my dreams...till the alarm goes off.

Part 9:

Jane was mostly drenched by the time he reached the hotel, his shoulders had soaked through to the white, cotton, button up beneath his jacket and his hair was a flop of untamed curls, loosely falling around his ears and collar. He composed himself, tugging at his lapels and running his hand through his tangled halo of gold, futily attempting to make himself presentable before entering the lobby and speaking to the enamored receptionist. He cleared his throat lightly, cocking his chin up and boldly thrusting out his chest, much like an overstuffed peacock.

"It looks like I will be needing that room anyway." He announced coyly, inclining his head towards the receptionist, while setting his elbows upon the counter and folding his arms.

"Yes Sir, not a problem Sir, one moment Sir." She replied, clearly flustered.

Jane contained a chuckle, clearly enjoying this little game, he cast his hand out with a gesture of insouciance, uttering "Please, it's Patrick. And not a problem, I can wait." with a reckless smile and wink to complete his little display. The receptionist "_Tiffany"_ the little name-tag pinned to her upper, left breast indicated, was rapidly pecking away at the keyboard, her other hand dragging the mouse around in small, quick strokes, her perfectly french-tip manicured, index finger tapping at the button anxiously.

"Alright Sir, Patrick," she said demurely, a rich shade of pink blossoming across her full, round face. "Room 314, just a flight above the rooms your associates booked, and to the left, it even has a balcony on which you might... sit." She smiled, her eyes gazing off over his shoulder as he leaned across the counter. A soft sigh escaped her lips, leaving them barely parted as his fingertips brushed her own to seize the key card, not yet offered, obviously "_Tiffany" _was off in la-la land, completely entranced with the dream of sharing 314 with a one, Patrick Jane. She abruptly closed her mouth, her lips pursing into a small pout as he yanked the card away, flicking it end over end a few passes before stowing it safely in his breast pocket. He smiled un-abashedly once more, one of those full toothed smiles that just creased the lines near the corner of his ocean blue eyes, so utterly fake, before whirling round on his heel and heading out the front door.

His expression all at once became solemn once more, his head bowing as he ducked out beneath the small awning of the lobby, stepping once more into the drizzle that steadily cascaded down from the heavens. He rounded the corner of the building moments later and began the long ascent of stairs, three flights, his eyes determinately fixed ahead. There was no Lisbon to collide with, no team to distract his thoughts with mindless banter, only the cold poorly spackled walls and concrete stairs to climb. He focused on counting stairs as he climbed, anything to distract him, 53, 54, 55... Lisbon...56, 57, 58...Grace...Finally he reached the third floor, 62 steps later and the thought of how the team would react could be held back no longer. He turned left, hurriedly rushing to the sanctuary of his hotel room, his hand dove to his pocket to retrieve the key card and he quickly swiped it through, a irritating "bee-bee-bee-beep" eminated from the device, forcing him to make another attempt. He did so again, and again, and again, each time trying a different approach to the whole process. Five attempts later he finally looked down at the confounded piece of plastic, realizing it needed to be flipped the other direction he swiped once more and turned the handle, the room finally allowing him admittance.

Immediately he stopped just beyond the threshold, his stormy grey-blue eyes darting around the room anxiously. The door swung shut with a loud thud behind him, causing him to start, his eyes quickly took in his surroundings, the white linens of the queen sized bed, the cream colored lamp, precisely centered, on the nightstand, the boxy, old TV upon the dresser, and then finally to the french doors, gaping wide, the sheers billowing in from the wind. He strode towards them immediately, the thin white fabric was only slightly dampened from the rain, the patio was drenched. He curiously fingered the fabric before seizing the handles on either side the doors and slowly, quietly shutting them, the curtains fell softly against the sheets of glass, hushed in the silence that fell about the room. He whipped round, once again taking in the room. It was then that he noticed the carefully folded sheet of paper on the small round table in the corner. A single chair was drawn back at an angle, as if someone has positioned it for him to sit, an offer he could hardly refuse. He strode towards it, his fingertips trailing the uppermost edge, the wood was still slightly warm nearest the corner. He eased carefully into its confines, his eyes never leaving the white sheet of paper so neatly creased. He ran his hands across his knees, drying them before he reached towards the letter and carefully unfolded it.

There was no writing on the exterior, no indication to whom it's intended recipient was to be, he knew however, that it was indeed for him, no need for a name. Slowly, and with the utmost concentration he read it's type-written contents.

"Patrick,

Patrick, Patrick, Patrick. Tsk Tsk, If I dare say, what a poor choice of moves. Your Pawns are all but sacrificed, your Castle has already been taken, your Bishop is questionable, and your Queen is in jeopardy. What defense do you have left? I fear this game will be ending soon. My move."

Beneath it all in place of a signature or other mark indicative of gratitude or sincerity, was a simple smiley face staring back.

Patrick methodically refolded the sheet of paper and pushed it away to the center of the table. He stared fixatedly at it, his grey blue eyes a violent storm, within their depths waves of emotion crashed against crumbling defenses. When he thought he could contain his anger and sadness no longer his thoughts were disrupted by a soft, ping noise, muffled by his left pocket.

"Where are you? We need to talk, it's urgent Jane. -L"

He sighed heavily, having forgotten to text her the room number. He swiftly typed in 314, and hit send.


	10. Gone

A/N: I suppose apologies are necessary! Apologies for the hiatus, I intend to continue writing this fic, but have been incredibly busy. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me. A big thank you to Hecate for the encouragement. As for "guest" we shall have to see... **wink**

Disclaimer: The Mentalist is the sole property of CBS and their affiliates. I do not claim any ownership of its material, cast, plot, etc. This is solely intended for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended. Patrick is only mine in my dreams...till the alarm goes off.

Part 10:

He knew he had only a matter of minutes before Lisbon would be at his door, his left eye twitched as he scanned the room, swallowing down the guilt that threatened to overcome him as his mind thought through what he would have to say to Lisbon. He knew what was necessary, and quickly sprung from the chair, dashing about the room and violently upending anything that wasn't bolted down. He tossed the bed, threw open the door of the mini-bar, grabbed a bottle a couple of cans of "Edited on the Beach" and a beer for good measure, and continued to dishevel the room, pounding the liquor as he went. He had to make it believable, he thought, like he'd gone off the deep end, needed to get out, was a risk to the CBI and her.

When he was satisfied with the state of the room he undid the top two buttons of his shirt, and all of those on his vest, and flumped on the bed, leaving the door just slightly ajar. He stared up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, his brain awash with the overindulgence of alcohol on an otherwise empty stomach. Oh, he was still capable of rational thought, for sure, but this made it easier. His thoughts drifted like a low tide, swirling in and out until he heard a hesitant knock at the door. He lay his head to the side, nuzzling the disheveled linens and called "Come in, i's open." He let out an exasperated sigh, conveying his aggravation without words.

Theresa stopped outside the room, her hand caressing the brass numbers of the door before she pressed her hand to the wood surface, pushing it open just a crack further. She paused, and thought it best to knock, that was polite, right? And so she rapped softly, calling his name into the silence of the room. His voice startled her, something about the tone, or was it the slur of 'it's', whatever it was she stiffened her spine as she crossed the threshold, slowly pushing open the door.

Almost instantly she nearly tripped over one of the pillows, part of its cover had been torn where it was grabbed and thrown. Her face fell in a frown, her eyes flicking over to Jane's sprawled form atop the queen size bed. She watched her step and strode to him, seizing his vest by the edge and pulling him up to come eye to eye. Her nostrils flared as she took in the concoction of fruity drinks and beer. "Are you drunk?" She nearly stammered, unable to hide the disgust in her voice.

"A bit, maybe. Possibly." He inclined his head, the sudden motion causing his head to loll slightly, the world suddenly spinning round him. He tried to pin down a single Lisbon, as he stilled the ocean in his skull. "Hello Lisbon." He smiled, drawing his legs up beneath him. His eye caught on the letter still perfectly centered in the middle of the table, then slowly came round to fix on her hazel orbs, alight with an anger he couldn't recall having seen before.

Lisbon whipped around, releasing her hold on his jacket, her eyes following his to land on the letter. She looked back at him, her hand outstretched, ready to snatch it up, watching him intently, reading his body language. It didn't get past her that it was the only thing untouched by the tornado that seemed to have consumed the remainder of the room. "What's this?" She spat at him vehemently.

"Nothing Lisbon, jus' give it here, please," He bowed his head and outstretched his hand, unable to keep a plea from escaping his lips. It occurred to him that this was not part of the plan, she wasn't supposed to know this, never, he was supposed to leave, to draw him away, to _concede, _and move on. His mind raged with the frustration of having forgotten to hide it. _Stupid!_ He thought, and then moved to scramble off the bed, his legs refusing to cooperate. _One too many beers! _His thoughts mocked him as he collided with the floor. Pressing his hand atop the mattress to once again struggle towards her before she could unfold the letter.

But it was too late, Lisbon was carefully unfolding the sheet, lost in the anticipation of it's contents to notice that Jane was now crawling towards her feet pitifully. Her jaw went slack as she read it through, kicking aside Jane's hand as it wrapped around her ankle. "Jesus, Jane." She shook her head, closing her eyes. She looked down upon him, a smirk playing on her lips a moment before her face went blank. "He's got the case files. All of them." She folded the sheet of paper and slapped it down upon the table, pressing it flat beneath her palm. She stepped to the window and pressed her forehead against the glass, heaving a heavy sigh.

"Lisbon," Jane cried, using the chair beside the table to pull himself upright. He wobbled a moment, and then inelegantly collapsed into the chair, inching it up to sit beside where Lisbon stood. "I have to go Lisbon. Leave." He spoke softly, never looking up to her, choosing instead to fixate his eyes on the peeling paint of the deck as rain pattered against it.

"Go where Jane?" Lisbon spoke to the glass, her eyes fixated on the grey-blue skies beyond.

"I don't know, but somewhere not here. Away from you, and the team, and the CBI." He paused, thinking a moment. "It'll be easy for the team now, They'll probably be grateful." He sniffed. "This needs to end Lisbon, and the only way its going to happen is if I leave." He folded his hands in his lap and watched the rain, falling silent.

"If that's what you want Jane, then fine. You've ruined enough already, and frankly, I don't want to be in the middle of this any longer. Goodbye Jane" She turned round on her heel and strode out of the room, stepping over the pillows and closing the door behind her, leaving Jane to watch as she left. His eyes traced her features so as to recall them later, a sort of small recording of the last time he would see her. He shoved it back deep in his thoughts and focused his eyes outside once more.


End file.
